Zil and Deanito
by theblackgoddess
Summary: Fic of Utter Insanity. If you are as sick and tired of horrendous OOC fics, or in the need of an insane spoof, this is the fic for you. Written by me and my friend Sam together
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

**"After the birth of his tenth child, Johnathia, in the past five monthes, Dean Winchester speculated that maybe something was not quite right. However he soon dismissed these trivial speculations after coming across a newspaper article about the rate at which an orphan drowns should they be dropped into the atlantic ocean off the british coast in February, and discovered his true divine calling. Now, he had already given up the Supernatural hunt after realizing that he wasn't truly doing Gods work, because God loves all his creatures, even the supernatural ones, and wouldn't want Dean to show them harm instead of lovingness, and he had already taken vows and become a priest after the births of his twin children Johnny, and Johnathan, but somehow he still felt unfulfilled in life. Maybe, these were only pieces to the puzzle of what to do with his life and if he applied the facts gained from this enlightening article, he would at last find a way to help his troubled soul still burdened with the pain of the acknowledgement of how he had harmed his poor supernatural brethren in the past. And give him closure. And it was then that Dean decided to move to Scotland and get a pilots license to aid himself in the quest for rescuing the drowning orphans in the ocean. It would be a difficult task, but Dean was ready for it. He only hoped that selling his car would bring in enough money to help him make the first steps towards this journey. It was in this rare moment that Dean wished he hadn't traded in his Impala for a Volvo, even though a Volvo was a much more saint like and got better gas mileage, the Impala would undoubtedly have been worth more to sell at this time. However he soon dismissed these sinful thoughts immediately reminding himself that "Money doesn't buy happiness, Happiness only comes through charitable acts to others" And thus, with thoughts towards the poor drowning orphans, and a grave and concerned heart, Dean went to his wife, Zil, to break the news about his departure. The beautiful Zil, standing erect at a grand height of 5 ft 2 inches with her 4ft 10 inch long gorgeous brown wavy hair falling gracefully down her back, was in the kitchen preparing a fruit bowl with carrots, broccoli, and spaghetti, her luscious deep soulful brown eyes looked up eagerly as he came in.**

"**Ave you brought me more of zat wondriful paper money, Deanito?" she asked in a voice that sounded as beautiful as a song birds on a winter night in Quam. She called Dean, "Deanito", because being a Spanish immigrant from Polland, she lacks the ability to say "Dean". Dean looked at her with eyes full of unending love, he wanted to take her in his big strong arms and hold her in a tight fervent embrace, of course that would be selfish, and he was much to busy, so he refrained, and said "Darling, I'm afraid that I haven't. You see, I must save what little money we have to fund my departure to Scotland, and what other money we should happen to get, I must of course give to charity to help save the monkeys in the forests of Canada from becoming extinct. Because you see the trees are so far apart that when these poor cute little monkeys try to jump to them they end up falling down and sometimes they were so far up in the tree that the impact causes brain damage to the extent that they keep doing it until they are dead, it's truly one of the worlds greatest tragedies. The People for the Protection Of Canadian Monkeys foundation needs all the money it can get to plant more trees to prevent these accidents."**

"**I see vat you mean Deanito, ve must be charitable to ze little creatures. What about jewlry?" Zil asked.**

"**I'm afraid not, honey bread." Dean gravely replied. Zil giggled at the sound of her favorite nickname.**

"**It's alright Deanito, shoud ve need to we could alvays sell ze children ve have to many anyvay," she reassured.**

"**No, honey bread, ve, I mean we shouldn't sell the children, I prayed about it and got the feeling that it would be morally wrong to do so, besides, children are fundamental to the development of adults for the next generation." Dean explained.**

"**I understand that, vut, Deanito! Ve haf so many, and zen ze childrun would be orphans and you might even be able to save zem later ven you leave us for your divine mission. It could help get ze, how do you say it? Ah yes, ze ball undulating" Zil said.**

"**Oh, Zil-Zil, how you make me laugh, I believe the word you're looking for is "rolling" Dean laughed.**

"**Zisn't that what I say?" Zil asked. And they both started laughing with happiness, at Zil's foreign ignorance to common words. Dean puzzled what his favorite most beautiful wife ever had stated and said, "Though it is tempting, I believe that God will deliver business unto mine own hands and I shouldn't need to subject the children to it. Oh and how did you know I was leaving Zil? I didn't even tell you that yet." Dean said.**

"**I'm a foreigner, Deanito, ve haf our vays." She answered mysteriously. **

"**Okay," said Dean looking at her lovingly, he couldn't believe that he was so fortunate as to get the most wonderful woman on earth of whom he wouldn't even have to explain divine missions to. He felt truly blessed.**

"**Vut Deanito, if you are going on zis quest you must take me and ze childrun with you, I cant survive without you and your providence of zat vunderful paper money" she implored.**

"**No sweetie, I'm afraid that this is something I must do on my own. It's my quest and it would be wrong to burden you with it." said Dean.**

"**It vould never be a burden vith you at my side," said Zil, and they both started to cry and buried each other in each others arms. because they were so touched by each others devotion and so happy that they had found each other. That night they held each other in a fond embrace, as they drifted off into sleep with dreams of promise in the future in their hearts.**


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2:

3 Months Later.

"I saved a little orphan child this morning just off the coast. Her name was Johnalitisha. On the flight back to the mainland I made pleasant conversation by explaining that my ten children all have similar names. I think she found it comforting", Dean wrote as he dozed off to the rhythm of the dancing flame atop his cream-colored pillar candle.  
In his slumber, Dean saw a faint glowing light. To any other, this would just be a figment of his subconscious mind, but to Dean Winchester, it was an epiphany, a new beginning, a chance to do more good than one can ever imagine.  
"A SEAL RESERVE!" Dean bolted upright in bed narrowly missing the low canopy of artificial vines that serve as sort of an inspirational dream creator.  
This life-altering message was so clearly sent to him by a seal possessing the power of telepathy. Reaching out to him in the dark of the brisk Scotland night, pleading for his good nature and aid.  
Zil, who had tumbled from the mattress, arose from the floor with a remarkable expression of content and happiness unnatural for one who'd just been startled from a deep sleep.  
"Have you had another… how do you say…dream vishun, Deanito?" Zil asked with her accent less notable when half asleep. "Wuz aye feeding you grapes and peekells as we baved in paper money?" Zil, being only 1/200th Spanish was featured in the 2005 Guinness Book of World Records for having the strongest accent of one so removed from the culture.  
"No, not at all my darling Zil-Zil", whispered Dean still going over the architectural layout of the Bora Bora Seal Reserve in his mind. "I saw something, something that will change the world. A Seal Reserve that shall protect all seals from the cruel killer whales who heave them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner every night with no remorse." Dean muttered, tearing up at the thought of the seals being chased ruthlessly through the vast, freezing arctic waters.  
"But of course, Deanito", yawned Zil as she slipped on her 100 cotton robe and padded out of the room to tend to young Johnathia who was awoken by her father's shouts of joy.  
With the vision of future good bringing him peace of mind, he was able to fall into a deep slumber where he dreamt of seals showering him with hugs and flowers in the "Polar Palace" that was now their home. Where confetti fell from the ceiling like snow, and nice fresh fish were as common as wildflowers in a field.

The next morning Dean awoke to the rich aroma of Zil's famous cucumber pancakes. The cucumbers were left over from Zil's previous job as a pickle farmer in Poland. She'd farm the pickles, and then transport them in her pink minivan to her underground cucumber pickling plant. This later led to her exile when the king of Poland found out, because cucumber-pickling plants are of course illegal for obvious reasons. Though money was her only motivation and she'd had no desire to tamper with the laws of the country, she was exiled nonetheless, and was deported to America where she met Dean while he was visiting the local rehabilitation centers lending kind, encouraging words to those who were seeking help for their problems. With his good nature and patience of a saint, Dean was able to help Zil become a hardworking, loving, caring mother of 10. Though her love for money still exists, she's no longer driven to break the law just to get it. She now owns a legal pickle shop where people can order pickles according to size. With it being the only custom-size pickle shop in Scotland, Zil's achievements have again found their way into the Guinness Book of World Records. Since Zil has become a useful member of society and Dean wishes to speak of nothing unpleasant, Zil's past was buried, along with her pickle plant.  
"Spoiling me with your delicious pancakes again, darling?" Dean asked kissing each of his ten children on the head as he walked by.  
"Vy yes, Deanito. Not a day goes by ver I do not wish to cook for you a most fantastic meal made of my special cucumbers from… ze other days ven—"  
"Hush now, my sweet Zil-Zil," Dean murmured as he wrapped his strong arms around her plump waist with concealed difficulty. "Don't think of such unpleasant memories, my dear. For it's all in the past now." Dean kissed her neck and pulled away smiling.  
"Vat are your plans tuday, sveetums? Do you plan to take ze childrun to school in ze choppar?" Zil asked as she gently flipped a cucumber pancake.  
"I actually plan to look further into the Canadian Monkey Issue we spoke of last evening, honey bread."  
"What monkeys, father?" Questioned John, the eldest of the ten.  
"You monkeys, of course!" Laughed Dean as he playfully mussed Johnita's hair.  
The children giggled at their father's delightful manner. They so looked forward to breakfast at their long 20-seat picnic picnic located in their breakfast niche.

Dean leaned back, grasping Zil's hand as he gazed at his perfect family. Little did he know, the breakfasts to follow would never again be the same.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

It was a beautiful Scottlandish morning, the types of birds that usually sing in Scotland in the morning were singing, and other birds that usually don't sing might have been singing too, however since Dean wasn't a bird expert he couldn't be sure. "Become bird expert" he wrote down on his list of Things to Do, right next to "Save the Flamingoes", an entry he had added after reading the morning paper and discovering an article on polar bear attacks threatening the flamingo race. It was oddly quiet that morning, Dean would usually hear the sounds of Johnny playfully throwing Johnita out the window in a loving way, or John Jr pretending to be a supernatural fighter and ferociously ripping his pillow to bits, but this morning all was still and filled with quiet. Dean was just about finished with the morning paper when he heard a knock on the door. "Knock, Knock, Knock," went the door, as Dean wrote down "Buy Hymn Singing Doorbell" on his list, and got up to answer it. It was his old acquaintance Jo from his troubled past. Her long blonde hair was short and black and she was nervously twirling her knife about in a nervous manner. Dean disapproved of her having a knife, because knives promote violence, but being a priest he knew he must always think of people in a positive light, so he decided that she probably only used the knife for cutting up carrots for her Cesar Salads which didn't have chicken because harming an animal would be wrong.

"Oh Dean!" said Jo.

"Actually it's Father Dean. My name has never began with "O", though I have thought about changing it, because Dean isn't one of the names of any of the saints, but I was going to go with Simmonius, and that doesn't start with an O either because O is a vowel and S is a consonant." Explained Dean.

"You've got to help me! My mother disappeared after her usual Women For Bowling Instead of Violence committee meeting, and I can't find Sam anywhere! I fear that the yellow eyed demon has taken them away to his shiny red licorice castle by the black sea in Jamaica!" exclaimed Jo frantically.

"Nonsense child, I called Sam not ten minutes ago and he sounded fine," Dean said.

"Really? What did he say?" inquired Jo.

"Well I didn't speak to him, there was a woman on the other line and she said he sounded just fine,"said Dean, "So you see, child, there is nothing to worry about."

"How do you know she wasn't lying?" asked Jo.

"If you wish other people to put trust in you, you must first put trust in other people" replied Dean.

"But what about my mother! I can't find her anywhere!" exclaimed Jo.

"Did you check the last place you put her?" asked Dean. Jo twirled her knife faster in frustration.

"But Dean! Aren't you going to help me fight the demon?" Jo asked frantically.

"Why Jo! I'm very surprised at you! I'm a pacifist! Don't you know that fighting is wrong? We should love our supernatural brethren like we do our neighbors of whom have a swimming pool and let us use it when we ask nicely." Dean exclaimed. Jo then proceeded to use a bit of foul language much to the surprise and disgust of Dean. The knife was going so fast that it was acting like a fan, gently cooling Dean from the sweltering hotness of Scotland.

"If you're going to use such language, I'm going to have to ask you politely to leave this establishment, my children need role models, not baddie biddies." Dean said, referring to his pet term for people who do sinful actions. Jo seemed mad for some reason that Dean couldn't quite understand, she had always shown irrational emotion though, so he wasn't surprised. She stomped her foot in frustration and at that second the knife of which she had been twirling at speeds so fast that the knife couldn't be seen by the human eye, fell from her fingers and flew through the neighbors cat as it walked down the street and then landed smack in the middle of Johnita's arm, skewering the cat to her by the tail, where it started swinging back and forth like a pendulum.

"Itty wing!" exclaimed Johnita, she was trying to say kitty swing, but being only 4 monthes old she lacked the ability to do so. She pulled the knife from her arm and the cat clearly suffering from the pain of swinging from the arm of a child scampered frantically away. Unfortunately the cat was in such a state of panic and fright, it forgot that it was right by a well, and fell in.

"Ait kitty! You orgited your knife!" exclaimed Johnita, and she threw the knife down into the well, it hit the cat between the eyes and the cat slowly sunk to the bottom.

"Awww, isn't that cute!" said Dean, "That's the fifth time she's done that this week."

"NOOOO!!! MY KNIFE!!!" YELLED Jo.

"It's alright Jo, I'm sure the cat will use it wisely for a good cause, those creatures are extremely charitable, just look at that wonderful film about the girl and the glass slipper who slept in the fireplaces, without the cat the rats wouldn't have anyone to play with," reassured Dean. But Jo didn't seem to hear him, and thus couldn't take his comforting words to heart, she ran to the well and tried with all her might to reach her knife, unfortunately her arms aren't 12 ft five inches long and so she couldn't quite reach it. John Jr. seeing this as an awesome opportunity to eliminate evil just like his dad used to, ran up behind her, grabbed her legs and flipped them over the edge sending Jo tumbling to the bottom of the well where the cat now lay.

"JOHN JR!!! YOU DON'T JUST GO AROUND PUSHING PEOPLE INTO WELLS! It's impolite!" reprimanded Dean.

"But Dad! She's an evil doer! Obviously a demon! Or worse! A HOMEWRECKER!" explained John Jr.

"That doesn't matter John Jr., we must always be a good example to people and shower them with niceness and love and not meanness and hate. Two evil acts don't make a good one, that goes against all the principles of mathematics. You should do unto others as you would have them do unto you. How would you feel if someone came up and pushed you in a well?" Dean lectured.

"Well, I'd feel kind of good because I could finally reach my knife that some stupid little girl threw down there " John Jr. explained.

"Well maybe, but then you would also be wet and wet people are rarely happy ones" explained Dean

"But dude! She like totally threw a knife into my little sister! That's so un cool" John Jr. argued.

"I'm sure it was an act of friendship, some people just don't know how to handle social situations right. We must be kind to them and show them how to greet people in the proper way. And how many times have I told you not to use the "D" word, if you're going to refer to me use the word "Dad" or "Father" or maybe "Poppsie", if you say that word one more time, I'll be forced to wash your mouth out, now go to your room and read the bible for a couple hours and pray for forgiveness for what you have done" Dean continued.

"It's alright Dean! I got my knife back!" shouted Jo.

"Son, you've been forgiven" said Dean solemnly, "Now you can resume removing the feathers from your pillow."

"Whatever, dude," said John Jr. as he left.

"WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT USING THE "D" word?"

"Sorry Poppsie!"

"That's better" Dean then went to see if he could help Jo in any way.

"Crap! Now I can't get back up!" complained Jo, "Could you help me Dean?"

"First let's say a prayer of thanks for you being able to talk the cat into parting with the knife" Dean got on his knees and offered a humble benediction.

"Here, I think I can scale the wall, but I'd need both hands," said Jo, "I'll throw the knife up to you and then climb out." She threw the knife straight up, unfortunately Dean was still in spiritual contemplation and had zoned out on what she had just said, and the knife fell back down because gravity exists and she screamed "Oh crap!" as it plunged into her heart. She sank down to join the cat.

"Hee! Ady dead," said Johnita.

"She's gone to a better drier place, we'll have her funeral tonight," said Dean reverently.

"Yay!" said Johnita. Just then Zil came home carrying a young boy of whom Dean had never seen before.

"I've never seen that boy before," said Dean.

"I know zis sveetums, I know how fery much you haf been needing more of zat vunderful paper money, so I sold Johnny for cash to show how fery defoted I am to your needs darling."

"VAT!!! I mean.. WHAT!" exclaimed Dean, because he was pretty sure that this was wrong.

"Itz alright darling, I got a good deal for him" consoled Zil.

"Honey bread, you can't go around selling children it's wrong!" explained Dean.

"But ze childrun vendor down ze street said it vaz alright"

"But now our priceless child is gone!" lamented Dean.

"Oh believe me darling, he vasn't priceless" sulked Zil.

"It's alright darling, I brought you another childrun, a cheaper childrun, there vas a clearance sale at ze orphanage. Apparently ze poor peoplez zere are going out of business, zey can't handle ze competition of ze rival orphanage down ze street"

"But it seems wrong to break up a set! Johnny was one of the twins!" continued Dean.

"You're right, I sell other one tomorrow." Zil assured him.

"No Zil! It's wrong!"

"But look I got you new childrun! Maybe better childrun that won't chew on ze furniture."

"Really? I have gotten tired of replacing the benches every week. What's his name?" asked Dean.

"Jonathan," said Zil. And a smile slowly spread across Dean's face. And together they walked in to eat a second breakfast, but this time they would be… together.

Dean sat at the table with Jonathan and the other children and opened his paper to reread the flamingo article to find any details he might have missed the first time, he was so preoccupied that he didn't notice Jonathan inching towards one of the many pickles lying around the house.

"I'm ungry Daddy!" said Jonathan as he picked up the pickle beneath the table.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!" yelled Dean, for he knew that it was one of the many pickles dipped in rat poison that they left lying around the house to take care of the gerbil problem they had been having due to the abundance of pickles they had. But it was too late, and Jonathan sank to the floor dead. Dean fell upon his knees sobbing over the loss of his beloved favorite child.

"It'z alright darling," assured Zil, "I make you another childrun"

"But when darling? When?" Dean implored.

"Tommorrow." The next day she gave birth to twins. Dean christened them Johnilla and Johnistan.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

"I must get to vork—I-I mean work right away!" shouted Dean not wanting to waste a moment. "The people that accidentally ingest rat poison need my help! He wailed, quickly forgetting about the newest affiliate, Jonathan, who lay on the floor awaiting the arrival of the coroner.

"Vut my darling, you just lost another child. I remember you acting upset ven I sell Johnny, vy are you not as upset about Jonathan?" questioned Zil, clearly confused by her husband's strange behavior.

"Darling. What happened to Jonathan is sad, but for him not to have died in vain, I must get started on the prototype for my new Rat Poison only deadly to rodents! Surely you know that!" Exclaimed Dean surprised at his wife's lack of knowledge.  
"I'm vorry Deanito. I-I do not know vat I was thinking ven I ask such a thing." Stammered Zil embarrassed.

"It's quite alright honey bread," Dean said as he opened the window facing the vast ocean to perform his routine check for drowning orphans, hoping for a second that he might spot little Johnny in need of his paternal aid. Seeing nothing, he turned and moved toward his cluttered desk searching for a paintbrush and palette to begin the design for his next three life-altering projects.

Zil turned for the door asking herself if she made the right decision in selling Johnny. Since it happened, Dean looked at her differently, like she had no will of her own, like at any moment she would succumb to the temptation to sell priceless treasures for any amount of money she could get her hands on. "Zis has to stop right zis moment", Zil decided. "I must show my Deanito zat I am no longer ze woman who broke ze law for paper money. I must show him that he can trust me with paper money, trust zat I won't take it to buy jewlry. I must show him zat he can still love me like I love him." Determined, she crossed the hallway into the kitchen in search of her pink piggy bank where she would store the Johnny-cash and later surprise Dean when he needed it the most, therefore proving that she can be responsible with money. Zil spotted the piggy bank next to the cucumber jar, and as she made her way over to it she slipped on a smooth piece of paper, and landed on her back, the paper floating towards the ground next to her. "A jewlry zale! I must go and buy my Deanito a silver seal on a chain for his project! That will surely show my undead love for him!" Excited, Zil decided she would store the money after buying the gift for Dean.

As The Best of Bach played gently in his studio, Dean painted what he could remember of the Polar Palace from his fanciful dream. The halls ice cold with fish painted on the walls, the ceilings an icy texture, and the floors actual frozen H20. At the ends of each hall a case containing ice skates of every size for those visiting the extraordinary telepathic seals. This way they could travel more easily from exhibit to exhibit without having to balance themselves in their sneakers on ice, like the clumsy hockey coaches on television. "It's all coming together! Brilliant! I shall help so many! The Seals will be safe from the teeth of the vicious killer whales looking for food, and the vast audiences will be safe from falling on the icy floors!" Satisfied with the humanitarian he'd become, he phoned his contractor Johnakin and purchased a plot of land on an island about 10,000 feet from the shore. "Yes Johnakin. Yes, this way I can search for drowning orphans while keeping a watchful eye on my Seal Reserve. Thank you, Johnakin, you've been most helpful, as always." Dean beamed as he hung up the phone. The thought that he'd finally done it, he'd finally purchased a plot of land was mind-blowing. This was something for which he'd been waiting days, and it finally happened! "I must celebrate." He brainstormed. "Yes! A celebratory drink! That will be perfect." Pleased, he walked into the kitchen and obtained a shot glass hidden from those underage behind a large purple and green mixing bowl. He reached in the refrigerator and pulled out the small carton and poured himself just a little, for he only wanted a buzz, because he needed to get back to work As the liquid entered his throat, there was an unexpected pound on the door. Startled, Dean choked, splattering his orange juice all over the counter that the canine unit had just licked clean.

"Ello?? Iz anyone in zer?" bellowed a voice from the other side of the thick, soundproof wooden door.

Recognizing the voice as that of Zil's Bulgarian Mud Wrestler sister Johnna, Dean scooped up little Johnita, who'd been blissfully snoozing in her high chair, and sped out of the room turning off all the lights as he went.

"Now Johnita," Dean said softly to his daughter who was somewhat dazed from being woken so suddenly, "We have to be really quiet because your aunt Johnna is here, and we know how upset she gets when mommy sells one of the children and doesn't split the money with her, don't we?" explained Dean softly hoping Johnita would just go back to sleep.

"But addy, I wanna thee ant Johnna" whined the little 3-year-old.

As Dean began to pray that Johnna would, for once, assume no one was home and perhaps try back after she attempts to fulfill another one of her impossible self-discovery quests, he saw a figure come between him and his only escape, the back door.

"DEANITO MY BROTHA!" Hollered Johnna as she embraced Dean as though he'd just returned from war. 

"Brother-_in-law_," coughed Dean when finally released from his sister-in-law's suffocating grasp. "If I were your brother, marrying Zil would be marrying my sister, and that is not right. Would you marry your brother?" He quizzed her.

"I do not know, I do not have a brotha." Answered Johnna.

"But if you did, you would not marry him, correct?" Pressed Dean.

Tilting her head to the side as if pondering the very meaning of life itself, she stood there for a moment and then answered, "I do not know, I do not have a brotha."

Dean again sunk to his knees in prayer that intelligence and spiritual awareness and guidance be bestowed up this pathetic in-law.

"Deanito, I've come to ask you about a certain issue betveen me sister and me." Continued Johnna clearly oblivious to the fact that she almost stepped on little Johnita who was contently chewing on Dean's pickled shoelaces. "It has come to my attention zat she has sold one of ze childrun wizout my knowledge or consent." Johnna tapped her strangely muscular finger against her temple dramatically.

At that moment, Zil burst threw the front door practically glistening from head to toe with her brand new diamonds. "Do you like my sling?" She asked posing awkwardly like some sort of model trapped in a body cast.

"I think you mean "bling", honey bread. But please do not use such words in front of our impressionable youth" Dean corrected, motioning towards Johnita. "And yes, it's very shiny."

The smile that had seemed permanently planted on Johnna's face quickly disappeared upon seeing her younger sister prance into the room wearing piles of jewelry that should've been hers. Screaming, she crashed threw the closed door, and ran off into the Scotland hills.

Dean began to pray that the townspeople might understand that she's a woman in pain and not some type of rabid gorilla running through their town, and that they might refrain from shooting his sister-inlaw. When finished, he stood up – a sense of peace had befallen him, for Christmas was right around the corner, and whilst praying for his wife's doomed sister, another inspirational idea and come to him like a long-sought after miracle.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

Due to the excitement of having to pull his children off of twenty firemen, twelve policemen, nine florists, seven undertakers, an obstetrician, and a hot dog stand, as they were trying to save their beloved Aunt Johnna from being put on display in the towns local deli/museum/library/chapel/IRS department, located just past the McDonalds/Burger King, and across from the arcade/art department, Dean was much too restless to get to sleep that night. So he got a crowbar and pried himself from the his love's huge boisterous arms and went outside for a walk in the moonlight. He was just walking towards the little fence made out of stop signs his children had collected, towards the junkyard full of cars piled one on top of one another, which hadn't been there until after he and his family had moved in, when he saw someone standing at the gate. It was a young ghostly figure in a bright neon pink frock, with bright orange suspenders. Her short black hair didn't fall gracefully down her shoulders because it simply wasn't long enough to do so. Just then she turned around and much to the astonishment of Dean, he realized who it was.

"Hi Dean!" said Jo.

"Greetings dear child, I see you've come up from the well," answered Dean.

"Dude, you totally murdered me," complained Jo.

"No I didn't," argued Dean, knowing full well that priests never murder anybody, well besides Romeo and Juliet, but everyone knows they had it coming.

"Yes you did," Jo argued back.

"Priests never kill anybody anymore, not since the order in Priestly, Michigan made up the Honorable Priest Code of Things Priests Shouldn't Do because one of their members wanted to know whether or not he could participate in extreme sports," Dean explained.

"Then who the heck caused me to die at much too young an age?" asked Jo.

"I don't know, you'll have to hire my son Johnny, he's the neighborhood detective, John was going to join him on the police force, but we've had enough disgrace in this family"

"What position?"

"Quarterback. So what are you doing here at this time of night?" Dean asked, turning her off of this touchy subject.

"I'm a woman in white, I've come to take you home with me and kill you," Jo declared in a declarative manner.

"But you're not wearing white," said John Jr. as he climbed down from his bed in the pine tree with his pet aardvark.

"The Supernatural Bureau for Supernatural Type Things And Stuff has declared that that's no longer a mandatory requirement to wear a long white dress, because it's too sexist, and we don't want to establish a bad reputation. Besides, they're way out of fashion," Jo explained.

"But you didn't drown your kids," interjected Dean.

"Pfft. Who cares. I did all the paperwork. The Supernatural Realm has greatly lowered it's standards due to lack of participants. In the good old days everyone wanted to be a justice seeking ghost of some sort when they died, but now what with lawyers and shifty florists, we're lucky if we can get anyone to fill the positions. Anyway who's to say I wouldn't have drowned my kids if I hadn't any? The SBSTTAS" explained Jo. Dean got out his list and wrote "Stop Lawyers" next to "Invent a Safer Polka".

"Ok, so can we go now?" asked Jo.

"Where?" asked Dean.

"To my house so I can kill you," answered Jo.

"Is kill some kind of slang or something?" Dean whispered to John Jr. He shrugged.

"Where is it?" asked Dean.

"Just down the road, I rented an apartment this morning for this purpose because they were out of rundown shacks, and broken up huts because the same people who invented holey jeans bought them all," Jo answered.

"I'm afraid I just afford to pay for the gas to get there. I just recently bought an island in the Antartik, with a K and no Cs" explained Dean.

"Don't you mean the Antarctic with no K and two Cs?" asked Jo.

"No, I'm talking about the cheaper much more affordable country that scientists Xeroxed from Antarctica in order to establish a safe haven for penguins from the treacherous arctic warthogs." explained Dean, "So unless you're willing to pay for the gas money, I'm afraid, but not the scared kind, the kind where I feel bad for saying, that you'll have to "kill" me later."

"Drat! How much would it cost?" asked Jo.

"1,385 of Nepalese Rupees of typical Scottland currency." Answered Dean.

"Drat all I have is 15 euros." said Jo, stomped she stomped her foot in frustration. Unfortunately the ground wasn't very strong there and she fell through into an underground abandoned pickle mine that no one knew was below the house. Johnna hearing the crash raced outside to see what had happened.

"MY BROTHA! WAT IZ GOINGZ ON HERE!" she bellowed loudly in all caps.

"A woman in white wearing a neon pink dress just fell down into an abandoned pickle mine that we previously didn't even know was there!" explained Dean.

"VHY?" asked Johnna

"She didn't have gas money."

"VHY NOT? ISNT ZAT VUN OF ZE MOST IMPORTANT ZINGS ZAT U SHOD ALVAYS TAKE VITH YOU TO AFOID PICKLE MINING ACCIDENTS?" asked Johnna.

"Vell, I mean well, we both know that, but unfortunately the common public seems ignorant to the hazards pickle mining, in fact some people are audacious enough to think that pickles can be grown like trees." Dean elucidated.

"VUT ZAT IS RIDICULOUS" roared Johnna. "ZEN VY VOD U NEED A PICK AXE TO GET ZEM OUT OF ZE GROUND?"

"I don't know Johnna, it's one of life's many mysteries." Dean said sadly.

"Hello! I need some help here!" hollered Jo from the cavern.

"Greetings, dear child, haven't we done this before?" asked Dean.

"I'm stuck in a freaking cave!"

"ITZ A PICKLE MINE!"

"Whatever," retorted Jo.

"YOU DO NOT DISGRACE ZE PICKLES IN SUCH A WAY INSIGNIFICANT UNDERLING!!! ZE PICKLES DESERVE RESPECT! PREPARE TO DIE FOR YOUR INSOLENCE!" thundered Johnna angrily as she leapt down into the cavern and pounding Jo left and right with her gigantic leaden fists.

"If only she was with us in my dark past when that poor misguided soul confronted Sammy," Dean thought to himself, and then he realized what he had just said and firmly placed that thought in the back of his mind and decided to read the bible an extra hour this morning.

"DEAN HELP ME!" screamed Jo as she was flung across the room knocking pickles from the ceiling as she went, showering them all in pickle juice. One pickle got flung so far that it even broke the window to their house and sailed into Zil and Dean's bedroom. Dean immediately sprung into action.

"Our Dear Kind And Gracious Holy And Just God Who Is Supreme and Grand In All His Doings And Loves Us All Equally And Wishes Us To Fulfill His Work And Return To Him Later, I humbly pray that this poor spirit shall find peace and love within herself and know true happiness throughout her long life. We humbly beg of thee that these wounds won't bruise her up so badly that she'll have to file for unemployment and become a drain on this great economy that you have provided for us. We also beg that you remember to protect the flamingoes from the onslaught of the polar bears and ask that you shower your blessings down upon the polar bears that act in holy ways and don't plan on obliterating the flamingo race. We ask that the supernatural realm will be able to get through it's employment issues and also request that Johnna's hands won't get too damaged from the way she keeps missing Jo and accidentally punching her fist through the pickle walls to the extent that she will no longer be able to continue her profession and thus be stuck with us for all eternity and forever sponge off our resources. And finally we ask that she please stop punching Jo, as it isn't a very nice thing to do even if the person has insulted pickle farmers everywhere. We thank thee so much for all the blessings that thou hast given us especially the grass and the trees and the seals and the rocks and the sky and the ocean and the orphans and mangoes, and papayas, and cucumbers and children and laughter……." Dean continued his prayer for several pages of this story, unfortunately he was so thankful that it brought our editor to tears to the extent that she bawled all over the other pages leaving a sopping wet mess and ruining the text. Because, we the writers, want to be as historically accurate as we can, and make this story as realistic as possible, we didn't try to rewrite the lost pages from memory because we didn't want to take the chance that we might print a falsehood, which we would never ever do.

John Jr., being the mischievous youth that he was had in the meantime started fashioning a pickle spear out of the pickles that were flying up out of the hole during the struggle. He ran to throw his aunt the spear but because pickles don't have Velcro or other fastening devices, his father had finished praying by the time he had finished building it and caught him. Dean grabbed the pickle spear and broke it in half, showering the cavern below in pickle juice, saying "John Jr! How many times have I told you that pickle spears aren't allowed in this household?!" Jo looked up and wiped the deep red blood that was actually black because supernatural creatures blood usually is, from her eyes, happy that Dean would finally do something in her defense, sort of. Unfortunately at this moment Johnna hit her with a left handed right hook and Jo fell back and slipped on the pickle juice, and impaled herself on a pickle stalactite. Dean sighed, got out his list and wrote "Hold a Funeral for Jo" right next to "Have a Memorial Service for The Deceased Person Who Has The Most Average Name Without An E."

Now we're going to do what is called a hablenockerbocker, where we switch from the perspective of Dean at the same instance all the Jo trauma is going on again and move to the perspective Zil at the exact same time where a different sort of events are taking place. This switch is of course not actually called a hablenockerbocker because if you ran to your dictionary immediately after hearing that phrase you would find that hablenockerocker is a nonsense word that I simply made up off the top of my head because I could not remember the term for where we switch from the perspective of Dean at the same instance all the Jo trauma is going on again and move to the perspective of Zil at the exact same time where a different sort of events are taking place, and figured that hablenockerbocker would work just fine in that instance.

Zil voke up to discover zat her darling sveetums Deanito had left her in ze night. She vas fery worried that he was still mad at her for selling Johnny and proceeded to start to cry. As she sobbed all over her beautiful new jewlry she heard a slight sound behind her and turned to find a glowy eyed demon staring at her. His purple eyes shone in the light of the moon streaming into the room from outside where the moon is usually supposed to be.

"I've come to….Wait a moment," he fumbled for a piece of paper in his pocket, except of course he didn't have a pocket, so it wasn't there.

"You may of course vait here howefer long you vish, my husband is a priest and ve are alvays supposed to be hospitable to visitors." Zil said nicely.

"No I'm not here to wait a moment, I'm here to…" he pulled off his shoe and took a piece of paper out of it, he then opened it up and started reading "Telepathically run you up the wall, and then…hold on a second," he pulled another paper out of his shoe and continued "Suspend you on the ceiling, and drain some of your blood…" he flipped the paper around the paper went "flip" "and then cause the house to burn down the second your husband comes in here" he finished triumphantly.

"It zook you zat many pieces of paper jus to tell me zat?" asked Zil.

"Well I write in 189 font," the demon would have blushed then but demons are very scary creatures and do not blush even when embarrassed at their huge handwriting.

"So should we get started? I am late for another appointment you know," the purple eyed demon interjected.

"Vait jus a moment. My Usband has told me of zis type of zing. He sez zat it is ze Yellow Eyed Demonito is ze vun zat does zis thing," Zil said. Being a Spanish immigrant who was born in China and then moved to Poland, she lacked the ability to say "demon".

"Shoot! You weren't supposed to notice that!" complained ze demonito vith ze purple eyes.

"How could I not? Ze light from your eyes is making my pickles glow in a fery unattractife color," Zil whined, "Vere is ze Yellow Eyed Demonito? If I is to be burned tonight I vant it to be by ze right person and not ze wrong one becuz zen Deanito vill make me do it ofer again and I don't vish to vaste my time."

"He couldn't make it."

"Vhy not?"

"He's on holiday in Jamaica."

"Vell zen vhy don't ve vait until he comes back?"

"We can't. He's already behind schedule! You were supposed to die last month."

"Vell if he is behind zen vhy did he go on holiday?" Zil asked.

"He vasn't.. I mean wasn't, behind in schedule when his holiday started," explained the demon.

"Vov! Ee gets a holiday for zat long? Vat a lucky guy, I fery rarely get any holiday at all and evin ven I do, it's only for a few days. You know I don't evin get Christmas?" Zil said in astonishment. She was astonished.

"Wow that's terrible, what business are you in?" asked ze demonito.

"Ze pickle business"

"Do you mine or farm?"

"Neizer, I harvest and sell"

"My cousins having a wedding soon, and we thought a pickle cake would be perfect for the ceremony."

"I set you up."

"Oh no that's alright you don't have to bother with that."

"No tiz no problem I do zis all ze time, I make more money setting up zen I do selling out" Zil reassured. The demon smiled showing row upon row of purple and green teeth. They clashed horribly.

"So can we start now?" asked the demon impatiently.

"No, I is telling you, ze yellow eyed demon is ze only vun I vill permit to burn me on my ceiling."

"But you don't understand! He's still on holiday!"

"Zen vhy doesn't he jus get off of holiday?"

"He can't! He's snowed in!" wailed the demon.

"In Jamaica? I zot zat zere vas no snow zere?" asked Zil.

"There's always a first. The flu's been going around," explained the demon.

"Ze demon caught ze flu? I send him some soup, make him all better." Zil offered.

"No not the demon, the snowstorm. Truly terrible, it's vomiting snow up all over everything, and is much too sick to leave Jamaica and go to the north where it belongs. Why else would they declare Greenland the number one beach resort for fun in the sun this season?"

"I vas vondering zat. Zat sounds zruly zerrible, aren't any of ze other elements going to help ze snowstorm." she said sounding very concerned.

"They're all too concerned that it might be contagious, the rainstorms are staying at least 7 millifeet away, and the sun has completely left the country all together."

"Zats awful. I'll have to ask my husband to pray for it." Zil said.

"Now can I please kill you?" he asked nicely.

"I guess." Zil stood still as the demon levitated her up on the ceiling. "I hope my hair looks okay" she zot to herself. Then the demon halted.

"Vat is zaking you so long?" she asked impatiently.

"Your ceiling. It's beautiful." The demon said.

"Ah yes, my usband and I put up pickle vallpaper on it a month ago so zat ven ve look up ve can be reminded of pickles." She explained.

"Do you have another ceiling I could burn you on? It seems like such a shame to waste this one?" But just then a pickle came flying through the window and impaled the demon in the head. He screamed "I'll be back!" as he slowly melted into nothingness.

Zil fell from ze ceiling and landed back on her bed.

"I dearly hope ze next time ee comes ze house vill be cleaner. How embarrassing for our family to have guests in zis pickle sty." She thought to herself. Her beloved dog, whom she had named Deanito after her husband moved over to the pickle and started to gently caress it with his tongue in a loving manner of admiration for the way the pickle had saved his mistress when he was busy hunting dust cucumbers under the bed.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

"At ze… I mean, the market today, I picked up 11 cups of rice and a rubber cucumber for my children and little Deanito, my wife's canine." Dean scribbled in his Charlie Brown handwriting that no one else could read. Like his father, Dean kept a journal of the day's events and his new ideas and causes. Also like his father, the writing was unbearably messy and dug into the page as if written with Jo's knife.

This was it. It was finally here. Christmas morning had arrived, and Dean had just finished hanging the presents on the thin branches of their decorated Christmas shrub. The children filed down in their Sunday best as their father read the sermon he'd written explaining the gifts they were about to receive.

"In my slumber, Jo came to me and said, 'Dean, I would really like you to die please.' After I told her no, I quietly placed my hand on her shoulder, bid her good luck, and silently closed the door. After that part of the dream I had a vision. A vision of pickles wearing nothing but rags scrubbing the floors of a grubby, stuffy orphanage, and I realized, the vision was a colorful version of what was actually happening in certain places around the world, and—" 

"Dude, come on, what does this have to do with the presents? I want to open them and check out the knife Jo bought me. Hurry up!"

"JOHN JR.!" Dean hollered, but then quieted himself, realizing that it was not right to cause such a ruckus on Christmas morn. "I mean, my child, I've explained this concept to you before. We do not use the d-word in this house, on Christmas day especially. It is The Lord's day, and today, like all days, is a clean-word-only day. And because of your rude and baddie biddie attitude," he glared at the window where Jo snickered and rubbed her dirty hands together not realizing she was holding her knife. A scream erupted as blood squirted from her hand. Dean said raised his hand to his head and said nothing. A moment later he cleared his throat ready to continue when there was a knock at the door.

"I'll get it!!" shouted Zil wearing nothing but wrapping paper secured with garland. It was her annual Christmas outfit that she spent the previous night producing. "Oh! Ello Jo! Pleaze, do come and join owah Chrizmas zelebrazion!" Zil said cheerfully, extending her garland-wrapped limb to shake Jo's. "oooh la la la!" exclaimed Zil," you are how do you say… covered fully in ze red color too!"

"Hi Dean," Jo said meekly, ignoring what she thought what a taking Christmas tree. "May I borrow a towel?" She held her bleeding hand out to show Dean the mess she made.

Dean was hesitant, but then remember one of his favorite sayings "10 acts of hospitality a day keeps the doctor away!". "Yes, of course, my child. But first, let us pray that you do not develop lockjaw from that rusty sharp implement of yours, and thank the knife for only severing your palm rather than that bony wrist of yours. And also thank your blood for being red, because it is a Christmas color." Handing her a towel, he asked that she not sit on the pickle couch, for his children often like to eat it, and they were much to young to develop a hunger for blood.

"Thank you, Dean, now could you please come with me? I am in need of your help to take out a new demon. I have it tied up outside."

"John Jr., what does "take out" mean? Is it like take-out as in fast food? Is she asking me out on a date? I am a married man for Heaven's sake! Infidelity is a dirty deed! She is injured, but I cannot have a… whore in my humble abode!" Dean whispered angrily to his son

"But dude!", Dean glared at him, "I mean, Poppsie!! But Poppsie! "Take out is a—" John Jr. tried desperately to explain but was interrupted by his protective father.

"Not now, John Jr. I have to go about this very carefully so she is not led on any further. Darn it all! I knew that midnight rendezvous was a bad idea! She surely would've found a way out of the well on her own."

"But Poppsie!" pleaded John Jr.

"Hush now, John Jr., everything is going to be okay." Dean said nervously inching towards the bleeding woman.

Approaching her from behind, he gently took her shoulders and began to steer her towards the door making pleasant conversation, attempting to conceal the fact that he was about to dismiss her from his open home, an act for which he'd beg forgiveness, but never regret, for as a married man, he had a duty to his Zil-Zil.

"So Jo, how's that cut of yours? Still bleeding? Do you like monkeys? I'm working on this new interesting project that we can discuss at a much later time, heh he heh he." he stammered nervously still moving slowly towards the door. "How do you feel about tomatoes? Fruit or vegetable? What came first, the chicken or the egg? So hows about them Mets?" he continued desperately.

"Dean, why are we moving closer to the door? Are you coming to help me take out the—"

"Yes! That's it, we're taking out the garbage!" he hollered, relieved at the change to get out of this predicament in a slightly more honest and plausible way. "Yes, lets just keep walking, almost there now, just a little further…" inches away from the door, Dean felt a sense of relief come over him, letting him know that everything would be okay. As his hand reached the knob, it began to tremble, for kicking someone out of his home was not a hospitable deed. But at that moment, his rebel child did something he never thought he'd reward him for, John Jr. acted as his normal rude self, opened the large door, and roundhouse kicked Jo out onto the front lawn where, dizzy from the fall backed into the wall of the well and flipped in. There was a splash.

"John Jr.!" exclaimed Dean. "You saved my marriage! You were extremely rude, but because it was for the greater good, I shall try my best to let it slide! Now! Onward with the sermon and therefore with Christmas!" Dean scooped John Jr. onto his shoulder and began singing gleefully from the end scene of How the Grinch Stole Christmas. He then demanded that John Jr. recite the famous line of Tiny Tim, "God bless us, everyone", (which he did, but reluctantly so) and therefore reenacting the beautiful end scenes of two of his most favorite Christmas stories.

"And now back to my sermon. As I was saying," Dean continued picking up exactly where he left off, "—that something needed to be done about such tragedy. So instead of purchasing presents for all of you, my lovely, blossoming, growing, booming, gorgeously splendid, fantastic, outrageous, perfect, magical, mystical, curious, John-filled splendorifantabuluciouspectaculamazingful family, you are each to receive the ultimate gift this year. Scoured throughout our shrub are ten gifts, one for each of my babies. You may now rise and walk, not run, we don't want to give your poor father a nosebleed, to the Christmas shrub and collect the present with your name on it!" Dean said excitedly, so unable to bear the suspense that, (even though the children were walking, not running, as they were told) he got a nosebleed.

"Um… are you sure this is mine?" asked John puzzled.

"Uh.. thanks guys..?" said Johnnathan trying to sound appreciative (though still bitter about the loss of his dear twin Johnny)

"It's rice." Said Zil, confused, thinking that maybe it was some non-Spanish-Polish tradition she was unaware of.

"Of course it is! As I said before, I saw the orphaned pickles who were hungry and dirty, and they told me through a series of hieroglyphics that they would be excited just to get a cup of rice for Christmas! And in telling me this, they explained to me that the main problem, aside from the poverty, is that no one knows about it. So I thought to myself, what better way to educate the world than to start with my family on Christmas Day with a gift that any orphan pickle would love to have!" Dean hopped about excitedly as he continued to read the remaining notes he'd written on his hand, "I gave you ten the gift of food to put in your bellies, and the gift of knowledge. No longer can you say you do not know of the hardships of orphan vegetables!" Dean finished, clearly blown away by his own speech.

John Jr., who obviously hadn't been paying attention to a word his father said broke the silence with a sentence that Dean, as long as he has his brain, will never ever ever ever ever ever times ten to the fifth power will EVER forget.

"What the hell, dude? Did you freaking give me the damn dog's gift again? What the hell is wrong with you, man? Last year you gave me a rubber pickle, the year before that you gave me a yo-yo made out of cheese, and the year before that a 'make your own magnetic pickle' set. Do you hate me? Or are you suffering from Alzheimer's at a non-old age?"

There was a loud thud, the sound of breaking glass, and a fading murmur from behind the couch, though no one could take their eyes off of John Jr. who might as well have burned the house down and then danced in the ashes with Barney and the teletubbies while playing the Sesame Street theme song on his recorder. That's just how serious this was.

Dean woke up to a faint beeping sound. It only took him 24 hours to figure out that the sound was his heartbeat on the monitor right in front of his head.

"I'd like to see him." Dean said softly to Zil who was fanning him with her hands, nearly taking his eye out several times.

"Are you sure?" Zil asked, worried about what effect this might have on both her husband's condition and the price she could get for John Jr. if she were ever presented with the opportunity to sell the lad.

"Bring him in here, Zil." He answered solemnly.

Shocked that he'd called her "Zil" rather than the usual "darling" or "Zil-Zil" or her favorite, "honey bread", she felt tears enter her eyeballs as she turned to find her second-born spawn. When she'd returned, she saw her husband doing his best to scan the ocean for drowning orphans from his sleeping bag on the floor seven feet below the window. "Zer iz no one out zer, Deanito."

"That is my concern, Zil. Where is the boy?"

"I do not know. He was zer one minute and gone ze next. Shall I go to find him?" she asked desperate to do anything that would end this tension between herself and her man.

"No, I shall find him. You can start the cucumber zucchini that I dreamt about this time last month."

"Are you sure it is wise to go out in your condicion, my sweet Deanito?" She felt the tears return to her eyeballs.

"Yes," he answered. "Now please do not ask me anymore questions. I shall see you ven…I mean, when I return." He turned and marched out the door as if in a parade of seagulls defending their flock.

"Holy crap! A freaking knife of my own! Jo, have I ever told you how great you look now that you've started cutting your own hair?" John Jr. asked, knowing that flattery was the best way to get what he wanted. He had no intention of revealing to Jo that since she'd began using her knife for everything, including hair maintenance, she looked like a poodle who'd gone through a paper shredder and then fallen in a well filled with grease, and then covered with feathers. Although, the feather part she was well aware of, for she'd just won a battle over a cookie crumb with a seemingly large hawk.

"You're quite welcome, John Jr. Anything for the guy who's putting his own life on the line to defend man kind in an attempt to take out the dreaded hippopotamorph." Jo replied with a hint of admiration in her voice.

"Yeah, no problem. I've been waiting for a good kill. Cutting my pillow to shreds with a butter knife is hardly what I call stimulating." John Jr. retorted. By the way, I don't remember you ever explaining what a hippopotamorph was… What's a hippopotamorph?" he asked, wondering what a hippopotamorph was.

"HUSH, YOU FOOLISH BOY!" screamed Jo as she dove into a bush that, little did she know, was covering a deep hole. "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh" she screamed as she tried to dig her now dull knife into the hard concrete so soften the blow. With a splash, she landed at the bottom, kicked off with her knife, and paddled with it to the surface.

"So, what is it?" John Jr. questioned, taking a seat on the edge of the well.

"What is what?" Jo asked as she began to clean her teeth with the knife.

"The hippogram thing," John answered as he pelted her with a wad of gum he'd peeled off the shoe she'd left behind.

"It's a mystical being," she began, catching the gum with her hair. "It looks like an ordinary plastic hippopotamus… … … … … 5 minutes later At first." She continued, with a failed attempt at drama. "But once you get close enough for it to trap you with its macaroni net, you'll soon see that it's not a plastic hippopotamus, but a—" she stopped, looked around from wall to wall of the narrow well and whispered, "a h-i-p-p-o… … …carry the one… … … p-o-t—"

"A pot?" Interrupted John Jr.

"No you silly boy! Crapola! Now I have to start all over again! Perhaps if I write it, I can spell it better. Seeing through your mind's eye isn't easy, you know." She added, as if being able to picture a word in your head was some sort of coveted gift. "Okay, I think I've got it: h-i-p-p-o-p-o-t-a-m-o-r-p-h".

"Yeah, a hippopotamorph." he answered. "I'm pretty sure we've already established the name." he finished, rolling his eyes.  
"Silly rotten little boy! Stop saying its name! Saying it three times will summon it!" Jo added as she began to nervously bite her nails.

"Uh, no it won't." replied John Jr. "I've said it like, eight times in the last hour it took you to spell it, and I don't see any little plastic hippo roaming the streets."

"Uh, yeah, that's because it's down here with me duh!" Jo yelled up the shaft, her hoarse voice echoing as it traveled the 30 feet to John Jr.

"It's down there with you?!?!" John exclaimed, excited that he'd finally get to kill a demon.

"Yeah, it's what I'm standing on! I needed something to keep my head above the water silly billy! She yelled with forced difficulty.

"First of all, my name is not billy, it's John Jr. I thought you knew that. And second of all, there isn't any water down there, it's dry." Explained John Jr.

"Yeah, sometimes I just like to pretend."

"Me too!" exclaimed John Jr. almost toppling into the hole himself. "Sometimes, well, all the time, I sort of—"

"That's cool." She interrupted. "Sometimes I like to pretend I'm an ice ballerina who wears nothing but gray all the time and has a purple pony with a limegreen saddle we do the waltz together all the time and his name is Paulo." Jo said all in one long breath.

Getting bored of sitting, John Jr. stood up and gathered a pile of rocks. He began tossing them rapid fire, seeing how many of them he could score in the hole.

Figuring that it was some sort of hard rain, Jo opened her mouth like a baby bird to catch some of it both because she was very thirsty, and it also reminded her of her's and Ash's stay in Guam whislt hunting the killer squirrelopods. Catching raindrops was their pastime. They'd race to 300 drops, and Ash, being so smart, would calculate which cloud was dropping the most and the least water. He would trick Jo into standing under the cloud with the least water, while he shot up to 300 in under a minute. Plus, Ash could actually count to 300, so he always won anyway.

She saw a raindrop falling towards her wide-open mouth. She tilted her head back, anticipating the quenching moisture so feverishly, that when it actually entered her throat, she truly believed that she'd received a glass from the sky. Before she knew it, she saw Dean standing in the well with his back toward her.

"Hey Dean! You came!" She exclaimed excitedly. When he didn't turn around, she figured he didn't hear her and continued to talk. "So, I didn't actually think you'd come! Anyway, no time to lose! I think the dreaded hippopotamorph has something to do with my mother's disappearance and—" she trailed of. "Dean, is something wrong?"

"What? No, no, not at all, I've just been admiring what you've done with the pickle nursery in such short time. You've fixed it up quite well." Dean complimented, still admiring the far wall.

"Do you really think so?" Jo asked, smoothing her hair, even though she had no idea what he was talking about. She was blushing.

"I'm blushing." She said, blushing.

"Do I ever lie to you, honey bread?" Dean finally turned around smiling sweetly.

"You-you called me honey bread," Jo felt her heart begin to beat faster with a pitter pat she hadn't felt since Ash. "My heart is beating faster with a pitter pat I haven't felt since Ash." She revealed.

"That's because I'm here keeping it going, Josie, darling," Dean said, and he bent down, tilted her head back, and planted a passionate kiss on her chapped lips.

Suddenly, a fierce thrusting of her stomach sent her flying back to conciousness where Dean was still hovering over her in his fireman's uniform perfoming CPR.

"Alright!" He yelled up to his ten children. "Belay on! Just like I taught you! Haul her up, we have a pulse and she's regained conciousness!" he gave a quick thumbs up and guided the cot as far as he could reach up, and then sunk to his knees giving thanks that when he'd jumped down there, he'd landed on Jo's stomach, therefore giving the obstruction, a small stone, the necessary push that allowed him to get it out with simple CPR. He felt the morning's anger drain away as the adrenaline he was used to (being an orphan lifeguard and all) when performing a rescue made its way through his body. He then stepped out of the pothole (which granted, was about five feet deep, but due to Jo's bad depth perception had seemed like a well to her) making a mental not to quickly get home and change into his eye doctor uniform so he can give Jo a once-over and a prescription for her eye problem.

"God bless us, everyone." He whispered as he slipped on his fireman's hat and started playing Christmas music on the loud speaker for the 2-minute drive home


	7. Chapter 7

By Sam

Chapter seven (finally. Sorry about the delay... midterms and all eyeroll)

Now feeling horrible for kicking her out of his house, Dean laid the still unconscious form of Jo on John's bed, John Jr. had a better bed made out of cream cheese and apple slices, but he didn't want a romance to form between his beloved son and a woman who had tried to break up his marriage. John Jr. was much to young, he would at least have to wait until he was a year or two old before he considered getting serious with a girl, and when that happened of course the girl would have to be a young pious Christian nun, or perhaps a foreigner, and not this girl who was at least twenty three years older, not to mention dead twice over. He opened the curtains hoping some nice sunlight would help revive the poor girl after her encounter with the hippopotomorph.  
She started to scream "I came back as a vampire, you idiot!"

"Oh how unfortunate, anyone participating in that sport is just asking for trouble. I suppose you'll be greatly needed though, especially seeing that every one on the team is in the hospital because Zil-Zil got an anonymous tip that they were running around on diamonds. There's nothing we frown upon more then vandalism. We won't even allow sandals in this house because they rhyme. We don't want to set a bad example for the children, you know." Dean said sympathetically.

"NOT UMPIRE YOU MORON! VAMPIRE! CLOSE THE FRICKIN' CURTAIN!" screamed Jo, as she sizzled like a side of Elroy Hamish's pre cooked bacon, which is only $1.34 a pound and on sale at Geraldina's Grocery store on Mainstreet at this very moment for three cents cheaper then any other store on this side of the galaxy. Plus if you call within the next ten minutes, you'll receive a free shiny pen and a kumquat with every purchase except the bananas, because kumquats and bananas are in a war right now and Geraldina's Grocery Store doesn't want to be liable for any damage to peoples furniture.

"I'll have you know that this curtain is a Duvalt, Fricken' curtains are much too gaudy for my tastes." Dean explained knowledgeably because everyone knows that Priests know everything there is to know about curtains, but by that time Jo was gone and all that was left was a pile of ashes. "Oh dear, I hope Zil zil doesn't come in here, she does so hate when guests leave ashes all over the furniture." Dean said to himself as he got ready for his daily orphan rescues.

Later that evening after putting the children to bed, Dean enjoyed a nice pickle sandwich in bed with Zil as he told of the day's events. "Saving Jo's life in that pothole was like nothing I've ever done." Dean said to Zil, failing to mention that she returned as a vampire. "Plus, it was my first mission as a volunteer fireman." He added, enthused.

"Yes, I know, Deanito. You 'ave told me zis many time since ze incident" Zil said, now bored with the story she'd heard many time since ze incident..

"But ze…I mean the adrenaline. It was unreal!" Dean explained as Zil, who'd hear zis many time since ze incident, was mouthing the words along with her husband. "Plus, it being my first mission as a volunteer—" he was interrupted.

"SI senor! El primer mision! Yo comprendo!" Zil exclaimed in a language Dean had never before heard in his life.

"Flabbergasted, he slowly inched away and uttered, "w-v-what? What language was that?!" he asked, gasping for breath.

Zil looked at him, leaned her head back and cackled manically. "HAHA! It vorked! It really vorked! You believed that I was Spanish! Now I can get pictures of George Lopez's ceiling! And I can get a picture with Mario Lopez! Margo loved him so on Dancing vith ze Stars!" Zil said excitedly.

"YOU'RE NOT MY ZIL-ZIL!!! YOU ARE THAT HORRIBLE MONSTER WITH PINK EYE!" screamed Dean diving behind the dresser.

"Vell duh. Vy else vould I not 'ang on every vord you speek?" the purple-eyed Zil asked. "And I DO NOT 'AVE PINK EYE! I 'ave purpel eyeballs!" the demon screamed angrily.

"Oh. My mistake."

"Vell, I— vat the… vy am I not able to pronownce my w's?" the demon questioned.

"Oh, Zil's always like that. Maybe she's born with it. Maybe it's Maybelline." Dean concluded with a puzzled shrug. "Either way, I can rarely understand a word of it. I have a pickle translator that tells me everything she's saying." Dean explained as he rummaged around in a drawer behind his back.

"Oh, that's convenient. Vhere can I get von of zem?" the demon sounded interested.

"Right behind you." Dean pointed.

The purple-eyed demon in Zil's body turned awkwardly around searching for the valued pickle translator.

"HAHA!" Dean mimicked the purple-eyed demon's favorite insult. "You actually believed me! I'm getting so much better at this stalling thing." Dean stood back a moment and took a mental picture of the demon believing his quickly thought-up lie that he would be sure to paint later.

"Vy vould you do zat? I vould've actually bought zis device from you!" moaned the demon, still believing the translator actually existed.

"Oh, right," said Dean. "THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPELS YOU! GET OUT OF MY ZIL'S BODY! VY— I MEAN WHY WOULD I HAVE TO TRANSLATE THE BEAUTIFUL WORDS MY WIFEY SPEAKS TO ME? WHAT KIND OF HUSBAND WOULD I BE?!" Dean yelled, appalled that someone would think he didn't love his wife enough to learn her confusing speech patterns.

"I'm not sure." Answered the demon. "But judging by ze look uv extreme anger on your face vich, by ze wayside iz turning an eerie shade of blue, I'm going to guess zat you vould be a bad 'usband if you 'ad to translate Zil's vords?"

"Yeah, that's correct. Good job!" Dean smiled. He walked over and patted the demon on the back. "I'd give you a gold pickle, but little Deanito ate the last of them. He's been vomiting all over the house though, so I'm sure you could find one somewhere if you really wish."

"Okay!" the demon beamed. "I've never von anyzing before." He continued, sounding saddened. "Alzough, I did vonce come in 31st in a vet skin contest." He said excitedly.

"That's nice."

"Yes, it vuz. Vell, I'm off to find zat golden pickel, if zats alright. Lovely talking to you." The demon started out of the room.

"Wait, before you go, could I please expel you from my wife's body?" he asked politely.

"Oh, sure. Go ahead." He stood with his arms out ready to take the blast.

"The power of Christ compels you!" shouted Dean as he squirted the demon with Holy Water.

The demon's purple smoke left Zil in a heap on the floor, and then morphed into the form that Dean recognized from the picture Zil had taken with the demon in front of their cucumber ceilings.  
"Thank you!" Dean said, shaking the demons hand.

"No problem. Oh, and could you please have your vife—I mean wife – heh, that sort of rubs off, doesn't it?" he chuckled. "Could you please have her give me a call so we can arrange that ceiling kill thing that the yellow-eyed demon blew off for some free trip to Hawaii?"

"Yeah, I'll tell her when she wakes up." Dean said, glancing at the floor.

"Great. Thanks. Here's my card." He handed Dean a small purple business card.

"Oh, we already have one on the refrigerator—" he stopped as he saw the demon's face fall at the rejection of his custom-made business cards. "—but we could always use one for the bathroom!" he finished excitedly. "I really like the clipart you chose." He smiled.

The demon beamed. "Thank you! Actually, the wife picked it out. Something about people being more receptive to being murdered when the card has some sort of fruit or flower on it. Heh, I guess it worked."

"Yeah"

"You know, when this killing mix-up is all straightened out, we should play golf sometime." The purple-eyed demon said.

"Good idea. I'm free all next month. I'll call you." He said holding up the business card and chuckling.

"Sounds great. Have a good night, Dean." The demon turned and glided towards the door only stopping to pick up a small golden pickle lying on the ground.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

PART ONE:

Dean rushed over to Zil her beautiful, exquisite form of prettiness lying draped over the cucumber rug. He gently fanned her with his shoe trying to revive her from her state of unconsciousness caused by a demon hijacking her body. Her deep green eyes opened and she stared lovingly into the eyes of her one true love.

"DEANITO! You voke me up ven I vas hafing zat vun dream about ze artichoke and ze piccolo at ze ice skating rink in Italy!" she said irritably, because she was irritated that he had woken her up when she was having that one dream about the artichoke and the piccolo at the ice skating rink in Italy.

"Oh darling I am so sorry, there was a horrid demon in your magnificent form, and I had to expel him to save you!" said Dean, distraught that he had woken his wife up when she was having that one dream about the artichoke and the piccolo at the ice skating rink in Italy.

"Zat is alright darling, maybe it vas a dream vishun and someday I might see it for myself" said Zil, looking on ze bright side of this situation. Dean stopped crying when he realized his wife had forgiven him and kissed her upon her elbow, as was the ancient Arabic custom performed in China when Zil had stayed there.

"Oh honey bread! Are you alright? I was so worried that the demon might have tampered with your mind some how" said Dean anxiously.

"I am fine Deanito, you may stop waving your shoe at me now, and please escort zat gigantic ostrich vith ze sports cap out of here, I am not in ze mood for company, and make ze house stop spinning it is making me dizzy," Zil replied.

"I don't see an ostrich, honey bread." Dean said confused.

"Oh vell, it must be vun of zos rare invisible ostriches zen, darling," Zil reasoned. Dean led the invisible ostrich out, hopefully.

"Now Deanito zere is something zat I must tell you," Zil said in a very serious dramatic tone.

"Are you pregnant again honey bread?" asked Dean anxiously.

"Besides zat."

"Did you sell another of the children"

"Besides zat"

"Do you want more paper money?"

"Besides zat"

"Did Johnita throw the neighbors cat down the well again?"

"Besides zat"

"Did Johnna get captured and tied to the public library with twine by the town choir again?"

"Besides zat"

"Then what darling?"

"Vell, you see ven zat demon had processed me…"

"You mean possessed you"

"Zat is vat I said, Deanito, pay attention zis is important," said Zil, realizing how important this was.

"My soul vas transported to ze Plane of Spirits, here zis is for you" said Zil mysteriously, as she handed Deanito a t shirt that said "I Vas Processed And My Soul Vas Transported To Ze Plane of Spirits and All I Got Vas Zis Crummy T shirt"

"Thank you. I shall treasure it always." said Dean, "Now I've got to go to my study and write down today's occurrences in my diaries" he went to leave, and then realized that he was already in his study, so he picked up Zil and was about to set her outside when she said, "VAIT! ZAT VAS NOT ZE IMPORTANT THING!"

"Then what was it, darling?" said Dean, confused and so shocked that there could possibly be something more important then a free t shirt gotten in the Plane of Spirits that he dropped Zil. He gasped in horror at what had happened. And raced to Zil's side as best he could given the unfortunate circumstances that he was already there.

"ZIL ZIL!" he cried "Are you alright!"

"It's alright Deanito my poofy cucumber dress cushioned my fall."

" I can not believe that I did that. I am a horrible husband, I must suffer for my sins before the wrath of god! From this day forth I shall take a vow of silence to atone for my crimes. These shall be the last words I shall ever speak."

"Don't be so hard on yourself darling, it vas an accident, if I can forgive you so can ze lord" Zil said comfortingly

"No Zil zil this time you're comforting words will not work, I must atone by taking a vow of silence. From now on I will say nothing," said Dean gravely.

"But Deanito! How vill you create your Seal reserve and save ze orphans vithout speaking? How vill you tell ze jewrly store people vat types of joules I love?" said Zil very distraught.

"I believe you mean jewels darling, Joules are units of energy or work or something, I don't remember because Chemistry is an evil wicked thing of which we must never mention again especially for the sake of the children," said Dean as he prepared to take his vow of silence. Zil didn't understand a word of what he had just said.

"I don't understand a vord of vat you just said Deanito," said Zil, not understanding a word he had just said.

"Good, that means it won't count as me breaking my vow of silence" said Dean, happily.

"But Deanito you did not answer my question! Not answering your vife is a sin you know!" said Zil. She wasn't exactly sure that not answering a wife was a sin, but it was a fifty fifty chance, and Zil had always been extremely lucky especially at pickle poker, she never drew a cucumber, not once.

"I do not know, Zil, but I'll find a way somehow" said Dean, irritated that his vow of silence wasn't going according to plan. Then Zil was struck with a brilliant idea.

"DEANITO!" she declared, "I AVE BEEN STRUCK VITH A BRIPPANT IDEA!" Deanito looked around desperately to save his wife from being struck again, but found nothing. He was so surprised that he didn't bother to correct her.

"You may take your vow of silence and Johnna can be your translator, because she knows how to speak zat language fluently! Now everyzing vill be alright!" said Zil excited because now that she had had a brilliant idea everything was going to be alright.

"On second thought, I think God will forgive me, after all it was an accident, and if you can forgive me, so can the lord" said Dean decisively making a decision with decisive decisiveness.

"Zat is even better darling, for I vod miss ze sound of your beautiful voice." Captured by this romantic moment, the lovestruck couple swooped into a passionate embrace of fiery passion, of course their lips didn't actually touch because priests don't do that kind of thing but you could still feel there love fill the room like when there's a helium leak and everyone's voice sounds silly.

"Now where were we honey bread?" asked Deanito.

"Ven?"

"A few minutes ago, before the tragic accident"

"Oh, ve vere in zis room"

"Oh yes, that's right, thanks for reminding me" said Dean.

"VAIT!" said Zil suddenly remembering how this whole thing started, except because Dean wasn't trying to put her outside so he could write in his diaries, he didn't drop her when she yelled "Vait".

"What is it darling?" asked Dean, his ears ringing from the power of his loves voice.

"Ven I vas in ze Plane of Spirits I vas valking about downtown looking at ze gift shops ven all of a sudden I vas poached out of novhere by ze spirit of a dolphin king!" said Zil finally getting to her important news.

"Then what happened honey bread?" asked Dean, anxiously after he finally realized that his wife meant "approached" and not "poached" because if she was poached she wouldn't be here right now and so there is no need to panic.

"Ze Dolphin King told me that he had heard about your plans for saving ze seals and vas pleased. He said zat he vod tell how to complete your quest if you agree to save ze dolphins as vell," explained Zil.

"Of course I will! Men of God are charitable to all of gods creatures!" declared Deanito.

"I knew you vod say zat Deanito, so I told ze dolphin king zat of course you vod save ze dolphins, and so ze dolphin king gave me zis!" declared Zil triumphantly handing Dean a piece of paper.

"A recipe for Pickle Bread?" asked Dean?

"Yes, I vill make us some tomorrow night," said Zil excitedly excited about her exciting discovery.

"But Zil Zil vat does zis..I mean what does this… have to do with the seal reserve?" asked Dean.

"Nothing. Zat is vhy I vent to ze copy shop copied ze recipe and traded a copy of ze recipe, or maybe ze real thing I am not sure, vith ze Magic Rag Man, for zis!" said Zil triumphantly handing Dean another piece of paper, with a bunch of ancient ruins imprinted upon it with runes written on the ruins in a foreign language.

"What is this?" asked Dean, puzzled as to what it was.

"It is a recipe for a seal reserve! You gather all zese ingredients and dump zem on ze site you vant ze seal reserve to grow," explained Zil.

"That's marvelous honey bread. I am so fortunate as to have a wife as wonderful as you are who will find such great things for me. Zil was so happy that she could do this great thing for her husband that she started to cry tears of joy, and Dean buried himself in her arms and started sobbing with her, because he always felt so sad when she was crying.

"But wait Zilly, I don't understand this language, how will I know what the ingredients are?" asked Dean in between sobs. Zil stopped crying, with happiness and started crying with sadness. She didn't know, she had always assumed that her husband would be able to translate the runes, after all he wrote his diary entries in fifty different languages every night. Then all of a sudden she was struck with another brilliant idea.

"I HAFE BEEN STRUCK VITH ANOTHER BRIPPANT IDEA!" declared Zil in a declarative manner of declaritiveness. Dean whipped about hoping to catch it before it disappeared again and reprimand it for striking his wife, but once again it was gone to fast for him to see.

"What is it Zil Zil?" he asked worried that it might involve Johnna and her language expertise.

"Doesn't your brozer speak runish?" asked Zil.

"Well, yes I believe he learned it so he could move communicate with Stone Hedge and ask it what type of building material it would recommend for the development of a center for saving the world, or some other insane idea that he came up with," answered Dean.

"Vell zen vhy don't you ask him?" asked Zil wondering why he wouldn't ask him.

"Vell, I mean..well you see Zil, me and my brother had an incident that has made it rather uncomfortable for me to speak with him again, and you see, we never really shared much in common anyway, I prefer books, and let's face it, Sammy isn't the brightest pickle in the bush," said Dean sadly.

"Vell zen zis voud be a good time for you two to mend ze bond zat vas broken between you, and to save ze seals, you both care about saving ze vorld," reassured Zil.

"That is true, however, my brothers methods are much too eccentric for my tastes, I prefer the normal everyday approach," explained Dean.

"Vell zen maybe you vill be a good example and he can learn from you!" said Zil excitedly. Dean had never thought of that, but now that he had, he realized that it was his solemn duty as a priest to bring his brother back to the light, and keep him from turning to the dark side of unconventionalism. He remembered what his father had said just before he traded his own life to save his son from a fatal giant cannoli wound and resolved to leave the next day.

PART TWO

Zil stood by the front steps leading up to their cottage sobbing as she watched her husband and her son, John Jr., leave to find her brother in law. And then she walked sadly back into house. "Courage, Zil" she reminded herself, knowing that she could always drink her life away should she lose her beloved Deanito and then join him in heaven. She then realized that that would be sin, and decided that maybe she could overdose on water instead. She resolved to make many culinary confections from her pickles for her husband when he returned.

Dean and John Jr. set out on their quest. John Jr. didn't remember his uncle but according to John, he was a "noble person who made everyone he talked to feel grown up and like a man" and according Johnita, he was a "crazy funked out psychedelic hippie surfer dude", either way John Jr. couldn't wait to meet him. They had spent all night searching and had found all of the postcards that Sam had sent them and had stopped at the Outskirts of Town to pore over them for clues.

"Excuse me sirs, would you like to buy this skirt? We promise it's out of fashion, otherwise you'll get your money back" asked a salesperson in the shop.

"No thank you, my wife won't wear anything that isn't green," said Dean politely, as they turned back to their post cards. The last one seemed to hold the most significance to their quest, it read "Dear Dean, I have been captured and brainwashed by your wife's evil twin, don't try and save me, because I'm very happy and plus I'm at 17 Worceshires Str. in London, and there is no way you'll ever be able to find me without that address. Have a nice life, this will be the last you hear of me, signed, Sam Winchester". They were about to hop into their jet and fly to London when all of a sudden Jo appeared.

"Hey Dean, where are you going?" she asked inquiringly.

"I'm on a quest to find Sam so I can save the seals!" declared Dean.

"And I'm here to make sure he doesn't get killed…I mean lost." Explained John Jr.

"Wow that's so brave," said Jo. John Jr. blushed, because he was young and didn't know any better.

"Hey Dean! Guess what I am!" said Jo happily.

"I dearly hope it isn't a vampire, you left a nasty stain on my bed the last time you died" complained John Jr.

"Nope, guess again" said Jo happy that they couldn't guess.

"We are all god's children, my child," explained Dean.

"I'm a werewolf!" exclaimed Jo, she couldn't take the tenseness of the situation any longer.

"But that's impossible," exclaimed Dean.

"It is?" asked Jo, puzzled.

"Yes, werewolves are living people who revert to the form of a wolf during the full moon, and revert back to their natural state when they die. You're already dead which means you would already be reverted back to your natural state, which is a corpse," explained Dean knowledgeably.

"Crap!" said Jo, as she fell to the earth dead. Dean and John Jr buried her in a pile of skirts and continued on to London. Little did they know that things were about to get very rough for these two brave Winchester men. An unforeseen tragedy struck. They ran out of gas!!!


End file.
